Memories
by Cookiecat
Summary: What exactly are memories, and what is it they do to us? - Double post by now, as this is also one of the two Intros of "Fragile Bonds". I still keep it here for people who want to read a stand-alone; and because of the reviews.


**Explanation:** This is the 'Intro' of a longer story I'm currently working on. I'm afraid it won't be finished before March next year, when I hopefully survived my final examination at university. Still, I felt the urge to publish something again, and this piece is pretty much finished, so here you go.

As I'm a person who is deeply interested in the play of (more or less) subtle psychological mechanisms, which can be seen best in rather 'extreme' situations, most of my writing is somewhat dark, tragic and/or angsty, but usually with an overall positive message at the end.

The main theme of this upcoming story is the effect memories can have on someone's life… To illustrate that, this Intro consists of six memory-episodes that will each play a certain role throughout the following story.

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**Setting:**The upcoming story will be set about two months past the main events of "Ties of Fate", which means some years prior to "Crisis Core". This Intro, however, consists of several memories which are set in different past times – some hints are given in the text.

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**Dedication:** I shouldn't really do multiple dedications. But there is a 'holy trinity' of extra-special people out there who just deserve to be mentioned…

First: Here I go, once again… I still feel so blessed that I met this wonderful person. She is my soul mate, my true friend, my lupine buddy and much, much more.

_**Ayarah Thorne, you have a special place in my heart!**** Blessed Yule, sweetie!**_

Second: This goes to another incredibly talented writer who has always been a brilliant source of advice and a really wonderful friend:

_**Makayla, ****I wish you wonderful holidays, an abundance of presents AND some lemon-flavoured Christmas cookies!**_

Third: There is someone out there who has been constantly flooded with random story quotes during the last weeks, yet she was never bored and always helpful and inspiring.

_**Sphi****nxofthenile, thank you so, so, so much for all your patience, once again!**_

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**Disclaimer:**(just wondering… is anybody still reading this?)

Anyway, characters and background are not mine, they belong to Square Enix; I just took the liberty to play around with them. My writing is purely fan-made, I get no material profit out of it whatsoever (sad but true).

Or to put it in the well-known shape: They own the neighbourhood; I'm just playing in the backyard.

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**Warning:** Some pretty dark thoughts and implications (including death, suicide and child abuse)…

**Final n****ote for reading:** As it is not explicitly stated who the narrator of each episode is (although it could be concluded from the situation/the use of names at some point), I just wanted to mention that it starts with Angeal (alphabetical order, so to say…;) and changes back and forth – meaning part 1, 3 and 5 belong to Angeal; 2, 4 and 6 to Genesis. (The last two shorter bits are more mixed, though.)

Before I forget – no lyric quote this time (incredible, isn't it?), but episode 4 was heavily and obviously inspired by an all-time favourite of mine: Nickelback's "Savin' Me".

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**Memories… **

**What exactly are memories? **

**And what is it they do to us? **

**Is it a blessing or a curse to have them? **

**For me, sharing memories was just one of the games we played… **

**Until I learned that it was so much more.**

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**1**

I can't really recall every tough situation we went through together over the years. If you want to nail me down on a number, I might remember about eight or ten special incidents, and of course not in detail, as you can. Maybe that photographic memory for situations and events came as part of the artistic talent you were blessed with. Although sometimes, I guess, being able to remember in great detail is a curse rather than a blessing.

For some reason, however, I recently had to think of that day when we were nothing but rookies in the Shinra infantry; the fateful day when I learned that I could trust you with my life if necessary. It's not like I hadn't known that before, but I just never imagined how far you were prepared to go.

As far as I remember, it was one of our first days in the field, when suddenly your rifle blocked. I guess that you were cursing inwardly, but you knew the drill. An infantryman in the first line has a 30 second survival average when his rifle is malfunctioning. We were not in the first line that day, but still you went down on your knees and started with the manipulations, as we had learned it and trained it countless times before.

Meanwhile, I was a few steps ahead, looking back at you, aware of the fact that you hated this weapon with all your soul. Just like me, you were already quite a skilled sword fighter, but an infantry man's primary weapon is the rifle, so we were both stuck with that.

Right in the next moment, we got the order to move; an attack of the troops ahead, I suppose. I only knew that I could not leave you behind. So I hurried over to try and help.

I clearly remember telling you to hand me your rifle, which you finally did, hesitatingly, and I handed you my own in return.

Of course we had been told countless times to watch out for snipers, but they normally target officers only, if they even bother to target the Infantry at all. As far as out enemy was concerned, there were far more dangerous units within the Shinra Army.

Just when I managed to find the reason for the blocking and was about to fix it, you basically ran into me and shoved me to the ground.

Totally confused, I called out: "Gen, have you lost it completely? What's the matter with you?"

No answer.

When I got up and turned around, you were on your knees, the hand pressed to your shoulder, with an expression of surprise and pain on your face. Blood was seeping through your fingers. That's what finally made me understand.

I remember both of us making our way back to the base camp. Halfway there, I was really worried about you. You were falling behind more and more, and the bandage I had wrapped around your shoulder was completely soaked, causing a steady trail of blood drops along our way.

Anxiously, I asked if I should carry you. As I said, I don't recall a lot, but I will never forget the surprised and annoyed expression on your face when you told me: "For the love of the Goddess, Angeal, I have a shot through the shoulder, not a broken leg. I'm able to walk, and as long as can, I will. Everything's fine, thank you."

Even years later, you just never accepted when I tried to thank you. You saved my life, yet you never saw that as anything brave or heroic. For you, it was just normal, and you somehow expected me to take that for granted.

However, there was something else that day made me understand. For some reason, you despised showing any signs of weakness. Life had taught you to appear strong on the outside, no matter if you were breaking on the inside. I thought I knew that. What I couldn't grasp yet was how hard you were trying to keep that facade, even with me… But I was about to learn, and about to get a glimpse behind it.

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**2**

Undoubtedly, a lot of strange things happened on the day I had that accident during the examination for first class. One of the strangest, in my opinion, was that eerie feeling of déjà vu I had while I was unconscious. I remember floating, weightlessly, feeling like drifting under water.

And suddenly, I heard some inner voice telling me: _Not again. Why do you always have to be so weak?_

Where did that voice come from? And all those others I kept hearing?

Wasn't that my mother? "So you are telling me my son has lost his mind?"

"That's not what I said," an unknown male voice answered. "I simply told you your son has a nervous fever. We normally know fever as the body's way to fight an infection, a physical condition, but at the same time, it can occur as a reaction to traumatic experiences. That's not to be taken lightly at all. If the temperature does not drop within the next 24 hours and if he does not regain consciousness soon, there is a high chance that he will not survive it."

"He might die because of something that is purely imaginary?"

"Definitely not the way I would put it, but in a very basic sense, you are right."

Dying. Somehow this thought did not scare me at all; and there was neither pain nor regret on my mind in that moment. Quite the opposite: I never felt so content in my whole life, so prepared to let go and leave everything behind.

But suddenly, there was another voice, calling, pleading, begging me to come back; the voice of a ten year old boy, who happened to be my best friend, my only friend. Your voice.

I could feel tears running down my cheeks. Was I really crying?

"_Please, let me stay. Don't make me come back. I can't. I won't… I have no strength left to fight."_

Did I really say those words? Or were they only on my mind?

There I was, still floating, like swimming under water. I could feel the current drawing me deeper and deeper, into the darkness. Yet I did not mind. All I wanted was to stop holding on, to sink into that comforting black nothingness.

Still, there were you. And somehow I felt that I could not leave you. Not like this…

So there I was, nine years old, faced with the most difficult decision of my life. It would have been so easy just to give in to the dark undertow I was already caught in. But there was your voice again. And suddenly, I changed my mind. Fighting against the current, I struggled towards to surface.

On the other side of that surface would be fear, guilt and worst of all, more pain. I knew that as precisely as I knew my own name. In this very moment, however, I did not care, as long as you would be there, too.

I never did anything so incredibly difficult before. With every inch that brought me closer to consciousness, more pain came back. It made me want to give up so many times, but finally, I succeeded. I broke through the surface.

And when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw made it all worthwhile: I was looking at you.

That was one of the most intense moments in my life, about eight years ago by now. Strangely enough, it had been completely erased from my memory, until I woke up in the infirmary, after my accident. Right then, I believed for a second that I had never grown up at all. For a unique moment isolated in time, I was nine years again.

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**3**

There is yet another situation I remembered recently.

It must have been during one of our first weeks in the Shinra Army base camp; I have no idea when exactly. You would know, wouldn't you? Somehow I just don't dare to ask…

However, I recall the fact that you were asleep already, somewhere in the background, while I was sitting at the fire with Greg. You remember Greg, don't you? Of course you do. A designated officer in the Shinra Army, who had lost his only son in the Wutai war about two years ago. For some reason, he had bothered to take us two rookies under his wing.

After watching the flames for some time, I turned my head to look at you, one of my standard occasional glances to check if you were all right. Greg was used to see me like this, and so his only comment was: "Remember my words, son: That friendship you two share is something special. It's like having two bodies, but just one heart; which is a blessing and a curse at the same time."

I nodded, but back then, I did not understand completely.

Meanwhile, Greg continued talking. He was trying to give me some advice, as from that day on, the new recruits, including me and you, would be integrated into the normal army after spending the first weeks isolated and with basic training. That step meant we were now proper members of the Infantry.

Somewhere at the end of his speech, Greg moved closer to me and lowered his voice: "There is one final piece of advice I would like to give you. From now on, you will have to claim your place amongst the other Infantry soldiers. I have told you everything you need to know, but I want to add something concerning your friend", he nodded in your direction. "I know that you are always on guard to keep him out of every possible danger. However, there is something you might not know about. You are surrounded by soldiers here, and as disciplined as they normally are, they can quickly turn from human beings into something else, especially when alcohol is involved. Not all of these men know their limits. I'm not sure if you are aware of it, probably not, but Genesis has a pretty face. Nothing negative, but innocent looks can be dangerous around here. Keep that in mind, will you?"

Looking into his eyes, I understood. Wherever you went during the next weeks, I kept my eyes focused on you. Doing so, I became painfully aware of all those meaningful looks and barely veiled implications that seemed to follow you. Truth be told, that's the case until the present day, and I'm still not used to it.

Greg had been right, I knew that much. What I did not know, however, was that I was trying to prevent a damage that had already been done, long ago.

Back then, I was unable to see that beauty in your face. Delicacy, yes. Innocence, ok. But beauty?

Virtually, I was blind until one certain day, when I had to admit to myself that I had suddenly discovered the truth. I was thunderstruck.

Once again, I could not take my eyes off you, but this time for an entirely different reason. That was the day when I finally realized I was falling in love with you.

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**4**

Unlike most other people, I can designate the most desperate moment in my entire life with absolute certainty, although I tried my best to forget it, to repress it, to keep it somewhere safely stored away, in order not to revive it again and again. But it was no good. Those pictures came back anyway.

It was our first ever so-called holiday, a few days off duty from the Shinra Infantry. We both had decided to return to Banora, to pay a visit to the people we left behind almost half a year ago. So you went to see you mother, and I went to see my parents.

It started as usual and turned into an argument. I was so used to that by then, used to all those things they would throw at me: that I was ungrateful, a spoiled brat, a terrible child. These words still felt like knives, but not as sharp as they did years ago. I was accustomed to everything they could possible say, or so I thought.

Suddenly, there was a change of topic I had not expected. My father referred to an event that was five years past, an incident I had tried my hardest to forget and succeeded surprisingly well in doing so.

Even today, I still remember every single word he used to point out to me that my parents had not acted like they did to protect me, as I had told myself times and times again.

"All I was protecting was our reputation, the honour of our family's name, after you tainted it. The gods only know what we did to deserve a child like you! Such a disgrace."

I did not entirely understand why these few sentences hurt so much more than I had expected. For the first time in years, I could not hold back my tears in front of my parents.

"And now you start crying again. Is that all you can do? Let me tell you one thing, Genesis: you are pathetic, you are embarrassing! Do you know what would have been best for our family? If you had died from that fever you got back then. But you could not even go through with that properly, could you?"

Those words hit me so terribly hard, and there was nothing I could do. I hurried out of the room, trying to get away from all those reproaches. When I closed the door behind me, I realized that I could escape the eyes of my parents, but I could neither run from their words that kept resounding in my mind, nor from the pictures that started to come up. Those pictures were the worst part of all. They flashed before my eyes, one after the other, without any sense or connection. Were those memories? Were they… mine?

The world around me turned darker, colder; and I started to shiver, not even realizing that I had sunken to the ground. It felt like being caught in impenetrable blackness, just broken by those terrible images, like flashes of lightening, and all those voices in my head that made me feel like I had lost my mind completely. In the end, however, just a single voice remained that kept repeating the same sentences over and over again: _"It's your fault entirely. You are so unworthy. It would be best if you were dead."_

I hardly felt anything, neither the tears running down my face, nor that I was shaking, or that my heart was beating as if it wanted to break free from my chest. The only thought on my mind was: _"I have to end it. Now."_

This time, I could not rely on the dark current to drag me under. I had to do it on my own. My hand moved as if it did not belong to my body at all. Despite the fact that I was still shaking, it closed firmly around the knife I carried with me. When I finally lifted it up and stared at my own reflection in the blade, my hand trembled so bad that I almost dropped the weapon.

"_That's just another thing you can't do properly. You can't even end it like a real man would. Pathetic."_

Somehow I managed to steady my hand and to raise the blade to the level of my throat. A single, swift movement and it would be done. Why was I hesitating? Was I aware of the fact that I had been subconsciously calling your name almost all the time? I'm pretty sure I wasn't, those other voices were far to deafening for me to hear my own.

My mind was as blank as a cleaned slate. I drew a deep breath. And I closed my eyes. The only thing I was aware of was that my hand had stopped to tremble. Finally.

I know without the slightest doubt that in this very moment, I was prepared to die. I would have done it, if it hadn't been for this other hand that suddenly stopped mine.

Confused, I opened my eyes and looked straight into your face. Time seemed like frozen. Only when I heard the sound of metal hitting the ground, I became aware of the fact that I had dropped the knife. And suddenly, I felt so tired. Your gaze was the only thing that held me upright. It was neither reproach nor anger that filled your eyes; it was fear, and a hint of relief that you had managed to be there just in time, as you always did.

Neither of us said a word. It was not necessary. You just wrapped your arms around me and held me tight. All I felt was the frantic beating of your heart, and I'm pretty sure that I started crying again. It did not matter. Nothing mattered.

Later you told me that you had been at your mother's house, when you suddenly got the eerie feeling that something was terribly wrong. The emotion grew stronger by the minute. "It was as if you were desperately calling for me", you said. You were running all the way over to my parents' house, and you didn't even stop to say anything to my father when he opened the door. Instead, you kept searching for me, in constant fear of being too late and totally unable to explain what you felt and why. You just felt it, and that was reason enough for you. Strange, as I was always the one to trust my emotions, and you were the one with the calm, rational mind…

The first words I managed to stutter that day were: "I'm so sorry… but I just… couldn't…"

You just looked at me for a second, before you stroke the strands of hair out of my face and wiped away the last traces of tears from my cheeks.

Finally, you said those words I will never forget as long as I live: "No need to apologize. I just want you to remember one thing, Gennie: You can always die. It's living that takes real courage."

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**5**

"Do you remember my mom's favourite embarrassing story?"

- "Of course I do. How could I ever forget? I must have heard it over a hundred times by now…"

_I still don't understand why parents have to make a fool of their children every once in a while by telling stories of 'oh so cute' events that happened somewhere back in time, preferably when the little ones were still playing in a sandbox. _

_My own mother, Gillian Hewley, said one of her favourite memories was when I asked her what 'marriage' was supposed to mean. Of course she explained it to me, in easy words a seven-year-old could understand. Once she had finished, I allegedly claimed that if it was like this, I would marry my best friend when I was grown up._

_My mother could hardly hide her amusement, but she still told me that this was not going to work, because "as a boy, you can only marry a girl". I remained unimpressed: "I'm sure Gennie counts as half a girl"._

_Whenever my mother told us that story, she was laughing, and finally we were, too, although you always had to add: "I might have to accept that you had weird ideas back then, but I will never forgive you for calling me a girl."_

"I just recently wondered… Do you believe in premonitions?"

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**6**

_Strange, how during all the time of our friendship, I usually was the one to ask questions and you were the one to reply. And you always had an answer for everything, except one time… Maybe I should try asking again?_

"Angeal?"

- "Yes, precious?"

"How long exactly is 'forever' supposed to last?"


End file.
